


Decorate the Tree

by Augustus



Category: The Wiggles RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-23
Updated: 2000-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The inspiration for a new addition to the live shows…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decorate the Tree

***December 15th, 2000***

"So, Captain Feathersword," the interviewer asked, smirking a little at the use of Paul's stage name. "What made you come up with the idea of decorating yourself, instead of the more conventional Christmas Tree?"

Paul exchanged an unreadable look with the blue-eyed man beside him. "I guess it just came to me one day," he announced eventually, voice tuned to the perfect Feathersword pitch.

"It seems to be a very popular part of this year's show." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes carefully watching the faces of the men in front of her. "Obviously your young fans have a similar way of thinking."

The blue-eyed man grinned broadly. "Oh, I don't know about that," he laughed, looking down at his own blue tee shirt to avoid meeting Paul's eyes.

The interviewer raised her eyebrows questioningly. "No?"

"What Anthony means," Greg jumped in, "is that Captain Feathersword is a lot more interested in riding around in boats and tickling people than your average four-year-old is. Right, Anthony?"

The older man nodded, a smirk badly hidden beneath an attempt at a serious face. "Yeah. He really _loves_ tickling people…" The innuendo in his tone was lost on no one. 

From his right, Murray Cook nudged Paul, the gesture conspicuous to an interested eye. For a moment, the latter looked confused, before understanding finally registered on his face. 

"Oh yes, me hearty," he jumped in to fill an uncomfortable silence, feathered sword waving frantically in one hand. "I love to tickle!"

The journalist smiled patronisingly. "So I see," she noted, before turning to camera. "We've been talking to the Wiggles and Captain Feathersword," she announced, "who are currently touring Australia with their 'Yule Be Wiggling' Christmas show. After the break…"

 

***December 11th, 1999***

Anthony flopped down onto the floor of his dressing room, spreading out so that no overheated body parts would have to come into contact with each other. "Well, that's another show over," he remarked, more to himself than to the other Wiggles, who were adopting similar positions to his own.

"How many left?" Greg asked, his voice muffled as he used the bottom of his tee shirt to wipe some of the sweat from his face.

"God knows." Jeff, as always, had fared the best out of the four, not feeling the heat as badly as his fellow Wiggles. "Not _too_ many."

A loud burst of laughter signalled the arrival of their supporting cast, led by the rather horrifying site of a large green dinosaur with a human head. Right on her heels came Paul, already half out of his pirate costume; his boots, eye-patch, hat and vest slung casually over one shoulder. An oversized dog, chequered octopus and stereotypical British Bobby brought up the rear.

Paul made his way straight over to Anthony's side, sitting down closely beside his boyfriend's inert form, heedless of the stifling heat in the changing room. "You look hot," he said quietly, his smirk betraying his awareness of the double meaning to his words.

Anthony reached out to lace his fingers through Paul's. "I could do with a nice, long bath…"

Paul's grin dilated. "Let me guess," he murmured. "You want some help washing your back…"

"Well, _you’re_ the flexible one…"

"Come on, break it up guys," Murray called good-naturedly from the other side of the room. "You'd give the kiddies nightmares if they could hear you talking!"

Anthony had the good grace to redden a little, but Paul just laughed. "Hell, Murray, we all know you're just jealous that you don't have a bachelor of your own!"

Anthony glared up at his boyfriend, the scowl not quite reaching his eyes. "I thought we agreed not to discuss that any more."

"As _I_ remember, _you_ decided we wouldn't discuss it. _I_ decided that I wasn't going to pay any attention to your decision."

"He's got you there, Anthony." Greg had managed to drag himself back to his feet and now tossed a bottle of water in the blue Wiggle's direction. At the very last moment, Paul reached out and caught it, taking a swig himself before passing it on to the intended target. 

"He got me a long time ago," Anthony replied soppily, eliciting a few groans from the others in the room. Oblivious, he pulled Paul down for a hot kiss, practised fingers tangling possessively in the short, damp hair at the nape of the other man's neck. A low moan was the only indication of the other man's affirmation of Anthony's statement.

"Guys, _please_!" Jeff groaned, shaking his head. "Do you have to do this after _every show_?"

The two men looked at each other before saying in unison, "Yep".

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Great."

After giving Paul another quick peck on the lips, Anthony stretched and pulled himself to his feet. "So!" he began, looking around at the gathered figures in barely concealed enthusiasm. "How do you think the show went today? What do you think we should change? What about the—"

Greg cut the older man off. "Anthony, it's hot, we've just finished our third show for the day and I desperately need a shower. Now is not the time."

Anthony frowned, before lightening up a little as he turned to the only person he knew he could count on for a more interested response. "Paul?"

His boyfriend smiled and gently shook his head. "Later, Anthony. Unless you want your fellow Wiggles to spend Christmas in jail, charged with your murder…"

The Blue Wiggle pouted, crossing his arms. "It doesn't feel like it's almost Christmas," he complained. "I mean, look at this place!" A wide gesture took in the disarray of their dressing room. "No decorations, no tree - not even any Christmas cards! I _hate_ being on tour in December."

"We can get a tree if you want one," Murray shrugged. 

"And take it down every time we move on to the next city?" Anthony shook his head. "That's just silly."

"You're the one who _wanted_ the damn thing," Murray threw back, a little offended. 

"Well, yeah, but I don't want to have to take it down every couple of days. I've always hated that part of Christmas. It's just so depressing." He dropped back down onto the floor, a hand immediately straying to the velvet of Paul's pirate pants. "The tree's all yellowed and dead and it always feels like Christmas is over _forever_ , not just until the next year."

"Let me guess, Anthony," Jeff grinned. "You were one of those kids who believed in Santa well into your teens."

Anthony's glared at him. "Don't be silly."

Jeff raised a non-existent eyebrow. "I'll ask your brother."

Sighing deeply, Anthony conceded defeat. "I was thirteen, okay!" he grumbled. "Is it such a crime to want to cling onto the magic?"

Paul kissed his boyfriend's pout. "I think it's cute," he smiled. "And if you want a Christmas tree, then we'll just have to work out some way that you can have one.

Anthony smiled at him, before turning back to face the others. "See?!?" he asked victoriously. "Now, why can't you all be more like Paul?"

"Because we're not in love with you," Greg supplied dryly.

"You're not?" Anthony looked a little disappointed for a couple of seconds before brightening. "Oh well, we can work on it."

For a moment, Greg looked as though he was going to say something, before shaking his head and raising a hand of surrender, obviously thinking better of it. "Please yourself."

Anthony was already onto his next idea, however. "Hey, guys, how about we do a _proper_ Christmas show next year?" he suggested. "Then we could have a Christmas tree onstage, instead of a giant dog kennel."

The other three Wiggles looked at each other, a little surprised. 

"That's actually quite a good idea," Murray said eventually, his voice slow and confused. "Although it's a bit early to be thinking about it just yet…"

"It's _never_ too early!" Anthony exclaimed, jumping to his feet again and beginning to pace the room. "We'll have to have a whole new set, and perhaps we can set one half in one hemisphere and one half in the other and maybe we could…

 

***December 12th, 1999***

"A whole day off!" Anthony grinned happily at Paul as they left the Melbourne venue, heading towards the back of the car park, where Anthony had parked his gold-coloured Bachelor of the Year prize early that morning. "We'll have to think of something special to do."

Paul smirked. "I can already think of _one_ thing."

An evil look flashed back and forth between brown and blue eyes as their gaze met over the roof of the car.

"Sounds good to me!" Anthony climbed in and leant over to unlock the passenger door.

"You _can_ do that with your key ring, you know," Paul pointed out.

Anthony scrunched up his nose. "I don't trust that thing," he frowned, glaring at the offending object in his hand. "I'd much prefer to do it myself, like I used to do in the old Toyota."

Paul smiled adoringly at his boyfriend. "You never would have got rid of that thing if it hadn't died, would you?"

Anthony frowned, only partly in jest. "She wasn't a _thing_ ," he corrected. "Her name was Rosie."

The other man shook his head before tossing the backpack containing his and Anthony's costumes into the back seat. "Just start the car, Field," he said lightly.

"Whatever you say, _Paddick_."

Their Melbourne hotel was only a few minutes away, so the journey didn't take long, despite the peak hour traffic. After parking the car, the two men headed straight for their room, smiling slightly at the looks of surprised recognition on the faces of other hotel patrons.

"They probably think we're real cheapskates," Paul remarked as Anthony fumbled with their key in the ageing door. "Choosing to share a standard room when you could _more_ than afford to have your very own penthouse."

"Let them," Anthony replied as he finally decoded the mystery of the lock, pushing the door open and gesturing Paul inside in front of him. "What would I do with my own penthouse suite, anyway? I'd get lonely."

"That huge bed with no one to share it with…" Paul supplied.

"Exactly." Anthony wandered straight over to the bar fridge, retrieving a packet of Tim Tams he'd stashed there early that morning, after consuming a third as breakfast. Shoving one into his mouth, he held out the packet to his boyfriend. "Want one?" he asked, his voice muffled by the mouthful of chocolate biscuit.

"No thanks." Paul tossed the backpack into the bathroom and stood, facing Anthony, hands on hips. "I've got other plans."

Anthony frowned, momentarily forgetting his hunger. "What?" he asked. "Are you going out or something? Why don't I know about this?"

"I'm not going out," Paul replied cryptically. "I'm staying in."

Anthony sighed and moved so that they were only inches apart. "What is this?" he asked. "One of those things where I have to ask the right questions if I want to get any answers at all?"

"No."

The other man pouted before moving over to the double bed and throwing himself sulkily down onto the mattress. "I don't like this game."

Smiling, Paul followed him over to the bed, meeting his boyfriend's lips in a quick kiss. "You will." Raising an eyebrow insinuatingly, he headed into the bathroom. "I bought a few things last night, when you and the other guys were working out the travel arrangements for the rest of the tour."

His interest piqued, Anthony forgot that he was meant to be sulking. "Yeah? I wondered where you'd gone. So, what did you get?"

Paul's smile was pure evil. "You'll see."

He retrieved an opaque plastic bag from the cupboard underneath the bathroom sink and returned to the main room, joining Anthony on the bed.

"I hate it when you're mysterious," his boyfriend whined, pulling out all the stops to get a surrender; eyelashes fluttering, lips pouting and blue eyes widened to their limits.

"Hey, if you have a problem, we don't have to do this," Paul teased, his eyes glowing mischievously. "We could just order up some room service or something instead."

Anthony appeared to consider this for a moment before replying. "Come on," he said, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance. "Get on with it, then."

"Well, if you're going to be like that…" 

Paul moved as if to shove the bag under the bed, but Anthony quickly reached out a hand to stop him. "No, don't," he said, his tone conciliatory. "I'll behave."

"Where's the fun in that?" Paul asked, grinning, but returned the bag to the bed anyway.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Anthony asked, trying to look as pretty as possible. "You're driving me _insane_ here!"

Paul leant over to give his boyfriend a lingering kiss. "I'm sorry," he said when they finally broke apart. "I'm teasing you, aren't I?"

"Yes."

Paul grinned. "Here you go, then." He handed over the bag.

Not one for patience, Anthony tipped the contents onto the bedspread, his confusion seeming to grow as he took in the varying species of Christmas tree trimmings that flowed from within. "I don't understand," he said finally. "We don't have a tree to put these on. What do you intend to do? Decorate a coat-hanger?"

Paul laughed. "Well, I suppose that's an idea, although it's not one I'd actually considered. It wouldn't be very impressive, would it?"

Anthony's pout was beginning to reappear. "No."

Finally, his boyfriend took pity on him. "I have to admit, my idea isn't much better," he admitted. "It's just that you sounded so down yesterday about not having a Christmas tree, but it really _isn't_ feasible when we're on tour. So I had the really silly idea that you might like to decorate _me_ instead." Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but Paul rushed on regardless. "You were saying how you hated taking down the decorations, but maybe this time it would be better, because it'd be me left underneath, not some dying branch."

Anthony was silent for a moment, before pulling the other man into a tight hug. "It's an insane idea," he laughed, "but I love it!"

When they pulled apart, Paul's grin had conquered his face. "So, where do you want me?" he asked brightly. "Oh, and in what position?" 

Anthony grinned evilly. "First things first," he corrected. "You'll have to get those clothes off."

"Naturally. After all, when do you see Christmas trees wearing clothes?"

"I saw one wearing a Santa hat once," Anthony supplied, as Paul busied himself with the removal of his clothes. "Instead of a star or an angel, you know? I have to say it looked a little spooky. I kept expecting it to come alive or some—"

Paul, now bereft of clothing, cut him off with a kiss. "Sometimes, Anthony," he said gently, "you talk too much. Here I am, completely naked in front of you, and all you can do is discus the scarier varieties of Christmas decorations!"

Anthony grinned sheepishly. "Oops, sorry. May I say that I like the outfit very much?"

Paul whacked him lightly. "Shut up and decorate me," he ordered. "I know it's summer, but it's not _that_ warm yet!"

After snatching another quick kiss, Anthony began to do as he had been told, carefully wrapping tinsel and lights around Paul's torso and limbs and placing a large, glittering star on his head, somehow managing to kiss every inch of skin that was to be covered before doing so. Finally, there was only one decoration left on the floor.

"Where can I put this?" Anthony wondered out loud, tossing the silvery bauble from one hand to the other.

Paul smiled sheepishly. "Well," he answered, "there is _one_ place…"

"Ooh, you _are_ naughty," Anthony joked, although he wasn't about to argue.

Finished, he stepped back to survey his work. "Not bad, not bad," he mused, stepping forward to slightly rearrange one red string of tinsel. "It almost seems a shame to take it off…"

"But?" Paul prompted.

"Who says there's a 'but'?" Anthony asked, face innocent. "I might just leave you over in the corner or something."

"You wouldn't." Paul's tone was confident. He knew that Anthony was hopeless at such games. That was _his_ area of expertise!

The other man grinned and shrugged. "No, no I wouldn't."

"Well then?" Paul prompted. "Is it time to take down the tree?"

Anthony met the other man's lips in a passionate kiss. "You know," he replied slowly, eyes roaming the other man's tinsel-covered body. "I think I might unwrap _this_ present a little early…"

**23rd December 2000**

**Author's Note:**

> My dates are wrong. The Wiggly Big Show tour had finished by this time, but call it literary license.


End file.
